Not A Clue

Why did she swallow the fly anyway?
Where is this woman?
Trapped in an endless song
Strangled by the shoehorn of our dreams
into an insane tune
a rotating door of death
with no hope of escape
no time to rest
no time to mourn
It always begins
with a fly
already swallowed
never a spider
or a cat
or a horse
she wouldn’t start with a horse

Stop the madness
Break the chain . . .

I know this woman
I went to camp with her
she sat right there by the bonfire next to Johnny
Now there’s a man
His story isn’t in apple trees
it’s travels and experiences
“The people he meets
when he walks down the street . . . ”

Yon Yonson was the true traveler
not in miles or distances or even places seen
His journey took him within the simplicity of things
the discovery of truth
“. . . They say ‘Hi! What’s your name?’
and I say ‘My name is Yon Yonson
I work in Wisconsin
I work in a lumber mill there . . .”

Related

pETEthePoet

coffee & a laptop, what other superpowers do you need?

Peter N. Liptak

Of the poems you will see here, some are new and some are old, some are hesitant and some bold, some even snuck up on me and took me by surprise, so treat them well with a good read and a thought or two, then leave them with a pat on the head. They deserve it, don’t you?